Harry Potter and what should have happened
by XeJe
Summary: It's sixth year and Hermione is eager to get back to Hogwarts, unfortunately - there's a war about to start and everyone knows it. Snape is not so keen but really, he doesn't have a choice. Bellatrix? Well she's just Bellatrix. Please read despite awful summary and title )
1. Prologue

AN: Hello! (That seemed like a pretty solid way to start) So this is my second story. I won't lie, I did abandon my first story - but please don't leave! I promise I will never abandon this. I wasn't really emotionally invested in that one, but this one I have written about 6 chapters already, have it all planned out and I WILL DEFINITELY FINISH IT!

Yes it is Severus/Hermione, but you gotta bear-with. There's a lot of plot we gotta get through before that even gets considered but I think the end result is good. Also it is rated M - our characters will have some sexy-fun-time and be warned for lots of strong language (effective immediately)

I guess- don't like don't read.

I dunno how much point there is in disclaimers, but: I'm not our friend Ms Rowling (I wish!) and I don't own anything you recognise.

(Wish me luck and here I go...)

* * *

PROLOGUE

As her thoughts slowly began to drift away from the comforting coldness of sleep, and her eyes began to focus through the tangled mass of hair across her face, she heard a soft shifting of a person behind her.

Judging by the light, and the lilting serenade of what must be a nightingale, she decided it was early, and she shuffled backwards into the warmth spooning her. She let out a lazy, 'Mmmmmm….', and allowed her eyelids to drift closed again, enjoying the closeness that felt so natural. Sleep was usually not an option after around six, but encased in these warm arms, her body decided, much to her delight and relief, that it was willing to make an exception.

She sank yet deeper into the embrace, smiling as she elicited a moan into her neck, realizing the hardness pressed into the small of her back. She giggled slightly.

She languidly brushed some of the hair out of her eyes and began to turn her head towards her companion, reaching for an early morning kiss.

She startled. Before her was a carrot-coloured, straw-like, shaggy-dog-esque mane.

'Fuck', she hissed. Well, that was unexpected.

She internally cringed as she realized her mistake. Oh, well. She wiggled her hips, trying to catch his attention. 'Ron', she hissed, 'wakee-wakee, time to get up'.

The only response from her neighbour was a moan and a tightening of the arm around her.

'Ugh, disgusting boy'. She shoved him away, "accidentally" elbowing him multiple times as she unzipped her sleeping bag and stomped to her feet.

She took the side of his sleeping bag, and with a determined look on her face, rolled him right out of it.

That jostled him awake. 'Whaa-?'

He was never the most articulate, but today Hermione especially repulsed at his inelegancy.

'That does it,' she announced. 'From now on, Harry sleeps next to me, and you sleep outside. In the cold.' She turned and stormed out, feathers thoroughly ruffled. Her stomping was designed to drown out Ron's disgruntled insult, and the piercing ringing of a chirping lark nearby.

She knew full well why she was so annoyed by Ron's typical teenage-boy behaviour, and she knew that it wasn't really his fault. She knew letting her anger out at Ron was the easy option. But sometimes, her Gryffindor stubbornness decided, the easy option was the option she would take.

No. She knew she was clever, and so she decided, she would face her thoughts.

She felt stupid that something so small had affected her so much, but as she allowed herself a rare moment of reminisce, she was flooded with feeling. She realised she finally understood the phrase, 'a whirlwind of emotion', and she wistfully pondered whether she was glad of that fact.

_*\/*V*v*V*\/*_

Snape sighed. The Carrows had just put another innocent in detention and he couldn't stop them. He reluctantly realized that that was becoming his most common expression. He rather enjoyed sneering, but _sighing_? He was in his 30s but he felt like an old man.

As a reflex, he reached for the firewhiskey, but then stopped himself at the last moment. Was this what he really wanted? To forget his worries through the medium of alcohol?

 _Yes_ , he conceded with another long-suffering sigh. This was what his life had become. It would be easier to just accept it.

Perhaps it was time to revisit the memories of the last year. Unlike at any other period in his life that he could remember, there were moments of true…happiness. Despite all that had happened, and all he knew was to happen, he had had the happiest year of his life.

II-+-XXX-+-II

Somewhere else. Somewhere dark and dank and smelling of rot. Somewhere no doubt buried far below the reach of civilisation, sat Bellatrix Lestrange. Her hair, usually preened over until she was as glossy as a prized poodle, now much more closely resembled a knot of rat tails. Her nails, jagged shards; her dress, a pile of rags. Nothing would lead an observer to believe that just months ago, she held such power.

Perhaps, if her captors were not so intent on their hate of her, they would have seen comedy at the cliché of the situation. Unfortunately, the black hate that radiated from the occupants reverberated around the room, searching for any pocket of happiness and engulfing it.

She leered at her captors, delighted at their disgust.

It was like a twisted game of cat and mouse. She just had to taunt them a little while longer.

And then suddenly, she was once again plunged into the darkness that was her memories, forced to replay them from the beginning, retelling the story for her captors.

II-+-XXX-+-II

Hermione had finally calmed down enough to think. The cool breeze helped her to sort out her thoughts, which had drifted back to that year, Hogwarts, the last time she was truly…happy. Scenes jumped through her vision: a groan of pain from an injured soldier… a first kiss unlike any other …. green sparks accompanied by a shout of 'Avada Kedavra'.

A sob escaped her lips.

Realising the cliché, as she thought it, she decided it was time to go back to where it all started…

Unsurprisingly, it all started at Hogwarts.

* * *

So - thoughts? Please leave a review cause I'm kinda insecure about this prologue. If it seems pretentious I tried to make fun of it, but I think that the rest of the story will be better. It might be a while before I update cos I've got exams, but I wanted to get this prologue up before. So - again - thoughts?


	2. Chapter 1

AN: Hi-hi. Here we go with part 2: (hope you like it)

CHAPTER 1

 _Antonin Dolohov's mask-concealed face, bathed in a haze of electrifying purple light, was the last thing she saw before hitting the mist of unconsciousness which swirled across her eyes. She heard, somewhere in the distance, frantic shouts of "Hermione,_ Hermione _!", and in some alternate dimension there existed a Hermione who was registering the panicked shaking of her distraught friends and allies._

 _Unable to respond, she simply lay there, time speeding up and slowing down, the smashing of glass, the wails of loved ones, the gut-wrenching cries of battle, echoing inconsequentially around her head, meaning nothing more to her than the current weather conditions._

 _And then, she heard her name again, this time even more desperate. 'Hermione? Hermione, Shit, Hermione! What happened? Somebody, help! Who did this to you?_ HELP _, please…' he trailed off, despair evident in his voice. Harsh, sharp breathing somewhere nearby and the brush of warm fur snuggled against her cheek were all she registered for a moment, before the voice hardened into silent but decisive. 'Hermione, I have to save you.' She heard an intake of breath, he was almost audibly considering the decision._

 _An exhale. He had decided._

 _Somewhere, an arbitrary whisper pleaded for her forgiveness. And then she felt a tinging, starting on her chest, and swirling outwards, smoke curling through her body encompassing everything from her fingertips to the ends of her hair. The warmth and soothing sound of an unfamiliar incantation accompanied it, and again she drifted away from the present, this time into a dreamless sleep._

Hermione started. Snape had jumped out of her mind. He was staring at her with a look of absolute horror on his face.

Hermione shivered at what was clearly disgust at her, words started to tumble out of her mouth, words that she hadn't admitted before, words of regret.

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to see that. I'm sorry that I didn't stop him. It's all my fault. If there was any way I could have communicated to him to stop, I would have. If it wasn't for me, he might have – ' she broke off with a harsh sob '- he might have avoided Bellatrix's curse. He wouldn't be dead. Sirius Black wouldn't be dead.'

When she had finally got her silent weeping under control, when she had finally recovered enough to look up, to her surprise, she was met, not with disgust, or even pity, but with a pensive look.

For a few seconds, they met each other's eyes.

A flash of emotion suddenly lit up his face, his chair clattered backwards, forgotten as he leapt across the room to the bookcase, bat-like robes billowing behind him.

He tore book after book from his shelves, running his hands through his greasy hair and erratically pacing with the look of a madman. Hermione had never seen him like this. Glued to her chair, she had no idea how to react.

His muttering increased in volume and spirit.

'Bloody Gryffindors. So wrapped up in their noble fucking self-fucking-pity that they don't take time to bloody fucking think!'

She looked up, confused.

'Potter, I can understand. He never thinks. But Albus? Albus was there, how – _how_ – did he miss this?'

 _THUNK_. He slammed another creased tome onto the table and flipped it open. She was horrified at the disrespect, especially coming from a man whose esteem for books nearly matched her own, and she therefore recognised the extremity of his emotion.

She gathered her confidence. 'Ummm, sir?'

He spun. He had clearly forgotten her presence. She shivered under his chilling stare. She knew better than to poke a raging bear with a stick.

 _Here goes nothing._

'What did D-Dumbledore m-miss, s-s-sir?'

The bat swooped back onto the sofa.

'Don't stutter. It's not an attractive trait.' He fixed her with a steely glare. 'Are you familiar with _Rennergate_?'

'Don't you mean Renner _vate_?'

'Do you take me for Mr Longbottom? Do you think I would forget a simple reviving spell?' He swallowed a puff of annoyance at her idiocy. 'No, whatever idiot thought to name one of the most powerful spells in existence so similar…' He huffed, cutting himself off.

'Anyway. Renner _gate_ is similar to Renner _vate_ , but much more intense. In fact, I would sooner compare it to the process of creating a horcrux.' She swallowed uneasily, confused. One of the most powerful spells…in existence? Horcrux?

'In much more extreme situations, it is sometimes possible… sometimes when a life is threatened … Sirius Black gave you a part of his soul.'

In any other circumstance, a smirk would have spread across his face at the way her mouth hung open in shock.

'You have to understand. Without him, you would be dead as well. That spell he performed on you - it kept you alive until medical attention could reach you - he saved your life. I'm sure the house-elves are grateful. More importantly, now, do not raise your hopes too high in that nauseating Gryffindor way, but I believe that there may be a way to save him.'

Defying any laws of physics that fancied themselves valid, her jaw dropped even further.

'The part of his soul left in you is still alive, even when the rest of him is dead. Therefore, your friend is only mostly dead. There's a big difference between _mostly_ dead and _all_ dead. Now, mostly dead is slightly alive.'

Despite herself, she chuckled at the reference.

His face unreadable, he carried on as normal. 'What I mean is, the mutt gave you some of his energy – his life force; hence the name, Renn _ergate_. Luckily for us (or for you, anyway)' he added bitterly, 'we can isolate that part of him, and use it, in theory, to bring him back from the dead.'

'Wh-wh-what?'

'What did I say about the stuttering, Miss Granger? You have been blessed not to find yourself on the same ward as Longbottom's parents, and it would suit you to behave as such…. Now, to the task at hand.'

 _Snape smiled at the memory and his former self, revelling in the bliss of having temporarily forgotten his current situation. But, he urged, he did not have time to dwell in memory. He yanked himself back to reality, and reality forced him to continue cutting down students' essays._

Anyway _, he mused, distracted, a few minutes later._ It really all started much before that memory. Perhaps the beginning of 6th year?

 _No,_ not right now _, he urged again, forcing himself to continue with reality._

^_.v.Y.V.Y.v._^

As Hermione trudged up the stairs to the third floor, and muttered 'treacle tart' at the gargoyle, she tried to think why Dumbledore had requested to speak with her so soon after she had got to Hogwarts for her 6th Year. She wouldn't be surprised if the sole purpose was to break into a new bowl of lemon drops.

But then, wouldn't the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-The-Apple-Of-Dumbledore's-Fucking-Eye be his first choice?

She decided she would soon find out, took a deep breath (climbing Hogwarts' endless stairs took a little getting used to after the relaxing holidays!) and knocked on the door.

'Come in', called the twinkly voice from inside.

She stepped into the room just in time to see the swirl of black robes disappearing angrily into the floo.

'Oh Hermione, dear! Do come in, take a seat. Would you care for a lemon drop?' _She knew it!_

She graciously accepted one with a tip of her head, and, reaching across the mindless clutter of an absentminded old man's desk for the proffered sweet, started sucking on it pensively. She gestured questioningly towards the floo.

'Oh, Severus and I were just having a little chat. Now, to why I asked you here.' Oh, so there _was_ a reason other than lemon drops, although they were undeniably a bonus for him – she doubted whether Snape deigned to accept something so lighthearted as a lemon drop.

'Now, tell me, surely schoolwork must be getting boring for the brightest witch of her age.' He twinkled down at her with a grandfatherly tone.

Unsure as to why he was asking so obvious she replied: 'Yes sir. Last year I _easily_ came top in everything. Except Potions, of course.'

'I have an extra task for you, a great honour.'

 _A great honour? What does that mean?_

'We both know that this will be an unusual year. There is no denying all of you children will have to grow up faster than would be ideal,' _Thanks for the reminder!_ 'Although, of course you have always been superior in both intellect and maturity to your peers,' _He's not wrong._ 'and I therefore I offer you the honour of becoming a full-fledged member of the Order of the Phoenix.' Fawkes cooed from his perch.

Wow. Never before had anyone been allowed in who wasn't 17. All three of them, especially Harry, had been pestering the adults for years, but they kept being told they must wait until they were of age. Of course, she only had a few weeks until her birthday, but for Dumbledore to specially request _her_ …. It was like a dream come true. No way was she turning this down.

'Thank you, sir. It will be an honour.'

'I believe yours will be an invaluable opinion in regards to strategy, as you have a certain aptitude for logic that the rest of us lack, and of course, having been raised a muggle leaves you with a more open mind.'

She always knew her intellect would be integral in winning the war, and she couldn't wait to show those stuck-up Pure Bloods how misunderstood Muggles were!

He beamed at her blatant excitement.

'You also show an unusual aptitude for medicinal spells. Would you be interested in taking on Mediwitch training? You could be an even more essential part of the Golden Trio.'

Mediwitch training? It _would_ be a useful skill, as well as interesting background to her lessons, and who was she to turn down an opportunity for gaining more knowledge!

Hang on. That means he thinks it likely there will be situations when they need serious medicinal spells – when they are seriously hurt.

'While very important, it won't be an easy task, are you sure you are capable of it?'

How could he doubt _her,_ the brightest witch of her age?

'Of course I can, sir. I really am rather clever.' The golden trio would be nothing without her!

He chuckled to himself. 'Poppy has already agreed to take you on as an apprentice, and you could devise a schedule to spend time in the infirmary around your lessons. I do believe you are capable of such great responsibilities.'

Well, she _was_ the brightest witch of her age. An extra challenge would be welcome.

'Umm, I suppose so, sir.' She plastered a joyful smile across her face and began musing about the endless possibilities and strategies _she_ could use to win the war.

She gleefully realised how much extra research this could inspire, another new purpose to explore in the library – she couldn't wait to rush down there straight away.

'Miss Granger', he interrupted her, as if reading her mind, 'don't forget to get an early night. I wouldn't want you to stay up too late in the library when you have lessons tomorrow.' his Grandfatherly tone assured her.

She nodded in acquiescence.

Dumbledore cast another bright smile in her direction. 'Good that's decided then. Another lemon drop?'

 _As she thought about it now, she realised angrily how he had manipulated her. At that time she was so proud but naive that she was easily controlled. She bitterly recalled how quickly that had changed._

 _Not that she would have said no to the offer, mind you, it would just have been nice for it to be her own choice. Despite the warm persona he tried to present, he did have a cold, calculating streak sometimes._

 _She suddenly realized what she was thinking._

 _Don't think ill of the dead. The clichéd shiver ran down her spine._

 _Of course, she missed him, his damned twinkling and all._

_H-H-H-H-H-H-H-H_

It was nearly curfew when Hermione eventually stepped through the portrait into the Gryffindor common room, greeted by the traditional beginning of year excitement and general chaos. Had there been a small nuclear war between the time she had left the common room and now? It seemed the only logical explanation for how quickly the room had descended into its characteristic messiness. In addition to the half-open suitcases and chocolate stamped into the carpet, there appeared to be a hurricane responsible for the paper debris flying around, some of which was only narrowly missing her face.

She decided that she had spent enough time setting the scene, and decided to actually do something, so, adjusting her armful of books and sighing at the strong Gryffindor personalities swarming around, she began to make her way across the room to the staircase.

'Hermione! Where have you been?' Her friends called out to her jovially.

Waving across the stuffy room, she changed her course and headed towards the gang, dropping a book as she went.

Ginny laughed, 'of course, she's been in the library, where else?' Ginny twirled her apricot hair over her shoulder while glancing at Harry.

Harry added: 'Well it _is_ the only thing she's good at!' Hermione sent a fake death glare and they all laughed at the gentle teasing.

She was itching to discuss what Dumbledore said with somebody, but he didn't mention anything about the others being inducted, so she wasn't sure whether she could tell them. She decided not to as she unloaded her books, and, yawning sleepily, fell into Ron's grateful arms.

(======divider======)

 _Ironically, Severus Snape, broodily musing in an office hundreds of kilometres away, finally let his own thoughts slip to an event that had happened only a few hours before Hermione's memory._

He fondly recalled the disdainful sneer that settled of his lips at the start of the memory – the welcome feast. It was directed at the students milling around the great hall after the sorting like enthusiastic sheep. It was important to make the right greasy-git impression to the first-years right away, and to remind the rest of them that the dreaded Potions Master hadn't got any softer.

Oh look. The golden boy and his groupies. He supposed that the-boy-who-lived was probably feeling a bit fragile, what with his pet flea-bag having sadly passed on. This was one of the few moments when he felt himself grateful to Bella. Ugh. What a disgusting thought. That sadistic bitch deserved nobody's praise, least of all his. But there was no denying he was relieved to be rid of that cur.

As he drifted away from his thoughts, he realised his gaze was still on the posse, and he mentally jumped when he saw that the only source of brains in the golden trio was staring right back at him, a questioning look on her face.

This awkwardness was thankfully interrupted by Dumbledore, in all his periwinkle glory, gracing the occupants of the great hall with his presence.

As the hall fell silent and expectant, he embarked on his usual waffle concerning rules, interspersed with general platitudes and reassurances to stay strong despite the 'difficult times approaching'.

Snape noticed, with a hint of worry, that his left hand was hidden away in the folds of his robe, not outstretched in its welcoming state like it usually was.

Snape began to zone out, trying to redirect his attention away from the resultant aches from the cruciatus, trying to focus on maintaining his greasy git reputation. His glares successfully severed any threads of chatter that were threatening to bubble up among the dunderheads before him.

Suddenly, his attention was jostled back towards the headmaster as he heard the words, 'and coming out of retirement for our benefit, our new potions master will be the esteemed Professor Slughorn!'

He could feel 500 pairs of eyes simultaneously turn towards him as their hopeful speculations were almost audible.

There hopes were crushed with one line.

'While our very own Professor Snape will move into the Defence Against the Dark Arts position.' Hundreds of groans, interspersed with a few nervous whimpers and shouts of protest erupted across the room.

Nice to know I'm appreciated around here, Snape bitterly mused. He shot out even more caustic looks at the ungrateful little shits.

'And joining him', carried on Dumbledore cheerily, seemingly oblivious to the unrest, 'will be Professor Lupin!' He beamed a winning smile across the hall as the cheers outshone the few gasps. 'I'm sure the older among you remember your excellent Dark Arts teacher; he has happily agreed to return for this year. I'm sure I can trust you all to be as open and welcoming and overcome any unnecessary prejudices.' He beamed yet another jolly smile.

The occupants of the Great Hall exchanged looks, the more perceptive knowing exactly the message held behind the bumbling words - ignore his werewolf status.

Dumbledore's words faded away as yet another sharp burst of pain shot through his leg. He winced, but quickly regained himself, building barriers around his weakness.

Again, he forced himself into concentrating on the Headmaster's words. At this point, he was still dotting along about why it was necessary to have double the number of Defence lessons. If only he would hurry up – everybody knew the war had started – even the little firsties. If he stopped dodging the truth with euphemisms then he might finish sometime before breakfast!

Willing himself to calm down he refocused on the hall.

Scanning the little buggers for any hint of trouble, and training his superior hearing in on the Gryffindor table (because let's be honest, they were the only ones likely to be making mischief in the middle of the welcome feast), he heard a little huff of annoyance. And another. Curious, he zeroed in on the noise.

What a surprise. Little Miss Hermione Granger. Of course, she probably fancied herself above all rules.

He tried to work out what it was she was doing. As he watched he realised that the little orange one was involved as well.

Then he realised – both their hands were under the table and he was sitting unusually close to Hermione – they were taking advantage of the fact that everybody's eyes were on the Headmaster, and having a little fun. He was surprised and a little impressed that it had taken him so long to notice – he didn't realise that the Weasleys possessed an ounce of subtlety between the lot of them.

About to embarrass them by calling them out, he noticed the expression on Granger's face. Disgruntled and a hint of upset. She was trying to push him away but he persisted.

Severus bristled in anger. And Gryffindors, always going on about honour and loyalty. Bloody hypocrites – that Weasley could treat any girl – let alone his own friend – in that way –

Again, Severus realised he was letting undue anger cloud his thoughts. It must be the lack of sleep – he rarely let himself get like this. Interesting. Very interesting.

His thoughts were forgotten as the Headmaster clapped his hands and cheerily announced the start of the feast. He decided, perhaps he would allow himself a secret moment of leniency for Hermione's sake and not call Ron out. Though he was making no promises about the rest of the year.

The plates took it upon themselves to feed him, piling up a hearty helping of roast beef, yorkies, potatoes and peas. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he pushed it away.

A little cough came from his side, Minerva pointedly clearing her throat. She cast a meaningful stare at the food before him as it rematerialised into pudding – eclairs, jelly and ice-cream all on one plate. 'You know, the table does have a point. You have been looking a little willowy lately.'

'Honestly, woman! Can we please let it get at least one day into the term before you start mothering me.'

She sighed and turned back to her own meal when he made no move to eat, instead pushing the food around halfheartedly.

Amused, he began to watch the new teachers at the end of the table.

Professor Slughorn was already spreading his influence, talking jovially with those around him and scanning the hall for any student that looked important. No doubt the aptly-named "slug-club" would reappear this year. Severus suppressed an internal sigh at the boring prospect.

Professor Lupin, however was looking a little worse for wear. Confused, Snape mused. Then he remembered that the mutt who had made his own life so difficult, had been very close to Remus. As in – they were fucking. Although they had tried to keep it hidden, being Gryffindors they really weren't very subtle. Snape was surprised that Remus was managing to function at all, let alone take on a new job where he would be inevitably surrounded by such prejudice.

Turning his eyes away from the misery surrounding him, he re-scanned the students.

Across the hall, Snape noticed that at least Hermione seemed to be enjoying the feast. She was already on her second portion, shovelling through a bowl of mashed potatoes with a contented look on her face.

 _Snape sat back in his chair, closing his eyes, and reached for another gulp of fire whiskey. It had been a long day. He was ready to forget all the duties of running a school, and just relax for a few hours._

 _But it was not to be. He shoved back his chair and crossed the room to his desk, ready to begin his night's work, surrounded by the warm glow of the fire on the other side of the study. Sparing a glance to Dumbledore's dozing portrait, he allowed himself a moment to reflect in sadness of the life and wisdom of the great Albus Dumbledore._

(0UI~+X+~IU0)

 _Hermione drifted back into the present as the chilly mist flowed around her, through her hair and under her clothes. She was still thinking of the warmth of the Headmaster's study – and the man that had until recently occupied it. To her disgust, tears came to her eyes as she thought of the last time she had seen him. Well, the last time she had seen him_ alive _._

'Severus, please.'

The glare of the moonlight in his eyes, a green flash, suddenly all she had ever thought to be true – shattered.

A cry unvoiced reverberated through her as she stole away, back into the darkness of the Astronomy tower.

After that, all she could remember was her blood pounding through her ears as she ran and ran – anything to escape the horror that she had just witnessed.

I"I"I"I_I"I"I"I

Sooooooooo, opinions? I know the timeline might seem a bit muddled – but that's the point. Hermione's and Severus's memories are quite confused at this point, so I'm afraid you're also going to have to bear with me to understand what's going on.

Also, I know that lots of things – character relationships, teachers – are a little different to what actually happens in canon, basically I'm picking and choosing what I like and what I don't, and shifting it around to suit me =) So, if it seems like a mistake, it's probably intentional (sometimes)

Btw there was a reference hidden in there - it's quite obscure and doesn't really fit but I just was desperate to include it - I wonder if anyone knows what it's from? (without google)

(I know there's no Bellatrix, but she's coming up sooooon!)

Please review – I'm not really sure whether this story is working so I really need advice – any constructive criticism really welcome! (3 "really"s? Honestly, Xenia)

WOW that was a long author's note - sorry for the unnecessary waffle.


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